


Into the Storm

by ThisisVenereVeritas



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisVenereVeritas/pseuds/ThisisVenereVeritas
Summary: Nathan swims in dangerous waters.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Skwisgaar Skwigelf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Into the Storm

Skwisgaar’s hair cascades downwards, pooling over Nathan’s sinking chest. He slips. Slides down under the increasing shadow. In between kisses, clumsy partings where they break for air, Nathan’s eyes flutter open, and through his inebriated state, sees Skwisgaar floating above him. Nathan floats along, lids falling to a slender line when Skwisgaar crawls on top, gets close, and teases him with probing fingers, touches that drive his senses mad.

Delicate hands begin their work at breaking Nathan. Fingers comb through his hair, tucking locks behind his ear. It tickles, taunts Nathan into opening his eyes, but when he does, has another set of hands tracing his jawline, and Skwisgaar drawing closer, crashing into Nathan with a kiss that steals away his breath. The lips weave, interlace with Nathan’s. It’s soft, supple, ignites a brewing storm that courses through Nathan’s being, stirs heat and draws the air from his lungs. The kiss deepens, and the same hands from before turn, breach the bottom of Nathan’s shirt and pour inward. It traces his waist. Shock. White and intense. A massive chill builds and hits Nathan’s chest, neck and face, splashing him with heat and making him part from Skwisgaar for a breath of air.

Skwisgaar laughs, cocks a brow and asks if he’s alright.

Nathan floats, eyes shutting at the trickle of blond hair raining upon him. Mouth reopening when kisses return, splashing over his jawline, dripping to his neck, and with Nathan’s permission, into the crevice of his collarbone.

Shirts come off, and a rush of cold air pushes them together. Nathan drowns under the piling sensations, lips and teeth summoning gasps, hisses and swears; hands that contort him, make muscles quiver, break into a wet, flee and yearn; and eyes that knowingly sense Nathan’s discretion, open and send him silent questions, if it’s enough, or if he needs a break, a chance to breathe before he pushed under.

Nathan stares into Skwisgaar’s once serene eyes, now filled with hungry, raw desire.

The storm draws nearer. It’s above Nathan. There’s a growl, and Nathan shudders at the shot of adrenaline that courses through his veins, sobers him enough to appreciate the gentility behind Skwisgaar’s work, his hands carefully tugging at his jeans, shoulder raised to keep his own sluggish arms afloat, to keep his entire being afloat in this muddled bliss. This moment before the onslaught. The eye of the storm.

Nathan rolls to his side. Blankets are kicked, fall up and spill. The dim lights cast meager shadows. Thunder rolls. Cold pillow brushes his face. Lukewarm fingers, hot palms feel their way downward, leaving behind a trail of moisture. Shaking. Sighs. Nathan falls under the building waves, the swirl that consumes his senses, and submits to the gathering storm, the desire and lips that sigh Nathan’s name thickly, heavy and sweet.

The waves. The heat. Intrusion. Connection. Friction. Bliss.

Above, Skwisgaar continues to repeat his name. Rolls off his lips while lighting strikes, pressure builds and waves crash. A hand draws outward, grasping sheets. Arms wrap around his waist, slide upwards, hold him into place. Nathan hears his name from under the gale. Feels Skwisgaar around, inside of him. Lungs breathe him, exhale his name in airy gasps. Holding him through the tumultuous rolls, squeezing, arms sliding. Embracing. Wanting. Consuming. In the calamity, the legs twist, tangle. The storm builds. Nathan’s drowning. Skwisgaar calls his name, but it gets lost under the throes, the booming thunder, masterful hands, and roaring pool that whirls, builds and tightens in his core.

Water bubbles. Boils.

Pressure builds. Hits. Flows out with a boom, draws the two men together. Nathan relapses, sinks into Skwisgaar’s enclosing arms, feels nails drag into him, hips grinding, shifting into an uncontrolled jerk. Nathan’s eyes roll up, to the dim lights hanging. Pleasure mounts and vision blurs. Skwisgaar’s voice hails over his grunts, pants, air heaving and bodies smacking and entangling. His presence becomes everything. Their nervous systems collide, erupt in a heavenly frenzy. Nathan sinks under the haze, loses himself to the hail of white, the wetness, heat and foam.

Eyes open, renewed.

He’s guided onto his back.

Parted, and free from the raging water, Nathan embraces cooler sheets. Fresh air. Warm lips. Tender words. He stares up at his savior, lifting and settling next to him. He’s pulled ashore by the same voice that led him into the dark, dangerous depths, by the hands that pushed him in, the eyes that drew him to sail directly into the storm.

A few seconds of silence. Peace. Thrilled, racing heart soothes to a slow, and the blankets that waft over his toes rise, cover his legs and topple over his waist. Skwisgaar falls next to him, rests on his elbow and murmurs his name, words, all nonsensical under the influence of natural ecstasy. The mattress sinks from the pressure, but the glisten of Skwisgaar’s pale, starry eyes keep Nathan steady.

Useless words cease. Stares linger in the increasing dark. Arms embrace one another, and Nathan, exhausted, vanishes into gentle, murky waters, the fading glimmer of sky-blue eyes navigating him towards a restful sleep.


End file.
